


leave your morals at the door

by charcoalscenes



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Lowercase, Manipulation, Mass Effect Inspired, Other, Stalking, Tentacles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8129083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: “i wouldn’t hurt you,” 96 comforts, sweet and melodic and not an ounce effective. “i’d take such good care of you. yuma. don’t you know you’re the reason i come here so often now? i just want to spend all my time with you.” mass effect/chora's den inspired au where 96 barely counts as an intergalactic officer, and a human dancer becomes the apple of their eye. (edit: first two chapters can still be considered a stand-alone)





	1. it's the thought of you

agent 96 had been going to the same den for nights now. they’ve played in nightly dens like this before. the flashing lights, loud music, gratuitous dancing and the other activities quietly enjoyed in the corners of these places create the sort of atmosphere they could relax in, their physiology naturally soaking up the energies of every malicious, neurotic, pleasured, and desperate individual in the room. 

it’s not really a habit, but every so often it is a treat that 96 affords themself. 

in this case, they barely managed, honestly still having been working on an assignment with their superiors when they first walked in. astral and kaito had been their company when they all first entered the den, truthfully wandering in only to speak with a contact who had information on an under-the-table arms deal. 

for 96′s two partners, any business to be had in this area was over as soon as that conversation had ended – and like hell 96 would drag astral, their superior-with-a-spotless-record, back for some benign entertainment. at first, though, that was exactly what 96 spitefully had in mind, almost having persisted astral to sit back and relax for once while they themself and kaito interrogate their lead instead. 

in the end, though, 96 is – unbelievably – glad that astral wasn’t talked into taking the seat 96 eventually occupied for themself; the thought of astral catching sight of this little treasure before they would have scratched something in the back of 96′s mind and made their teeth go on edge. 

some of the dancers don’t talk, aren’t even allowed to be touched, and yuma is one of them. 96 caught onto the policies right away when yuma’s face remained impassive and simply playful even as they barraged the human with coos and quiet demands for just _a name_. by the end of their first night, they still had the sense to ask one of the bartenders the burning question instead. 

yuma looks good on his knees. it’s 96′s favorite position for him, they’ve found; whether the man splays and moves by himself in front of his audience or caresses a pole. they like seeing the human’s bare chest puff out for them, glistening with whatever spread they put on the entertainers here so that their assets be better appreciated. he looks so good looking up at 96, his shapely arms lovely as they feign helplessness behind his back or over his head. and he has such pretty eyes. 

96 has already entertained the plebeian thought of plucking them out so that they’ll only ever again look at them, but in truth, that’d be such a waste. 

astral would kill them if they found out what 96 has been doing, and kaito would have their head as well. 96 doesn’t say these thoughts outright so much as they tease tiny details of their situation to yuma, always hoping for a spark of a genuine reaction or, even better, the human’s curiosity. 

“i bet people do this all the time.” 96 is quiet enough so that only yuma hears them, and they make sure of it, even as they continue to stare at yuma dip lower and make a nice pose for his new regular. “try to talk you into seeing each other during the day. wait until the place closes, hope to get a peek of you when you go outside. maybe hope to get more than just a peek.” 

they’re rewarded with the apprehension yuma hides by dancing his head to the side, though 96 catches the expression. “i wouldn’t hurt you,” they comfort, sweet and melodic and not an ounce effective. “i’d take such good care of you. yuma. don’t you know you’re the reason i come here so often now? i just want to spend all my time with you.” 

yuma’s eyes are lidded when 96 can read them again, and the heaviness there pushes them to go on. “i’m not allowed to do this. to try so hard to talk to you. to try and follow you. i’d get in so much trouble,” they laugh, and answer the question on yuma’s face. “i’m not allowed to _want something the way i want you_. the people in charge of me would never let me have you. not that they may ever have to worry; this place does so well in protecting you. you’d think with my connections that i could get a piece of your time or at least a number. are you happy being such a nicely kept secret here, yuma?” 

another juicy angle 96 can work from, they realize. if yuma and the dancers are being somehow mistreated or otherwise cooped up by management, it stands to reason that they’d all be damsels in distress, the den fit to fall under target for a raid. it’s a thought that needs support before any serious planning, at least, and so takes a decisive backseat once yuma leans away, back arched and body impressively balanced while delectable thighs and the treasures between them are so graciously displayed for 96. 

“good boy,” they breathe. yuma’s legs twirl, his body spun once as he stands himself up slowly, and 96 leans back to look up at him. 

* * *

not long after, 96 approaches the bartender with another request, not missing the way he squints at them like their repeated presence alone has already inspired some just weariness. “how much for yuma?” they ask. 

“you don’t have to pay for anything,” the barian answers, lifting his chin to stare down at 96. “if yuma’s space is available for seating, you can sit and enjoy the show. hell, you don’t even have to sit.” 

“i _know that_.” 96 snaps. “i’ve had the show; that’s not what i’m talking about. obviously i want to treat more than just my eyes this time.” 

they reign themself back and smile, would-be pleasant despite the obvious rejection in the other’s body language. not sure if simply waving money in front of him would work or not, 96 breaks in before the other can answer, “i couldn’t help but notice that yuma is your only human here.” the smile stays in place even as suspicion runs underneath their tone. “why is that?” 

“what is it to you?” the barian challenges. “humans are allowed to work wherever they want nowadays; if someone can do a job, we hire them. listen, i have other clients to tend to.” he turns away, and 96 can taste the irritation seep from his shoulders like waves despite the dismissal. “i don’t really have time to talk. enjoy your stay, but we’re closing soon.” 

“i know,” they glower back, and distract themself by turning back to where yuma’s small stage is. somehow, they aren’t surprised to see that he isn’t there anymore.  _did they scare him away?_  

they’ve seen where the dancers and some of the other staff go to once the den starts to close: a corridor protected by bouncers that 96 could probably bully their way through if it wasn’t for the fact that the trouble might attract legitimate security – and, as would eventually be likely, their own bosses. 

sneakiness has never truly been 96′s style, but in this case, for the sake of taking and keeping their newly discovered little gem, they might be able to make an exception and adapt. 

it goes against the very real urge to stalk through the small crowds in the den to look for the human, or to simply grab yuma the next night and fight their way out, but 96 manages; leaves quietly that night with the weight of the bartender’s glare on their back and essentially forces themself to not to speak to yuma during their next visit. 

and predictably, it gets to him. there is a restlessness that settles on yuma like a second skin, something that 96 picked up on quickly after their first meeting but that had been overshadowed by the very sudden implosion of lust and other hungry desires emitting from 96 themself at first sight. it’s belated, but they take advantage of yuma’s trait now, keeping their lips shut tight even as yuma’s prolonged looks of inquiry are tempting 96 to spill their thoughts once more. 

they keep up the situational whiplash though, even in the face of astral stepping into security’s lounge area one day to meet with them and ask, “have you not been sleeping? you’ve been taking more naps lately.” 

“and?” 96 immediately snaps, and can’t find it in themself to regret it despite astral’s deepening frown. “have you been saving up another lecture, officer?” 

“we are _both_  emissaries of our world, agent 96. don’t forget that.” astral goes on as 96 stands from the sofa. “please stop reacting so hostile every time i address you. i merely wish that you keep in mind your position, and the image we need to maintain.” 

what unsettles 96 isn’t astral’s insistence on 96 themself having to strive for a record as spotless as their superior’s; it is spotting kaito hovering behind astral, arms crossed and eyes harder than they would like, as though the commander is attempting to gleam on something from the conversation which 96 didn’t want any part of in the first place. the look nags at 96 enough for them to snarl at both their comrades to get on with the day’s assignments, and for 96 to already start making plans the minute the two superiors finally turn their back on them. 

* * *

96 keeps up their colder attitude that night, stopping by yuma’s stage briefly without a word before tearing themself away to get a drink. 

it’s still difficult to hone in on a single individual’s emotions when in a room full of people, especially one as stifling as this, but 96′s practice has paid off, and they smile to themself as they feel yuma’s perturbed eyes follow them as they leave, however nearby they still are. indeed it has never been hard for 96 to stay noticed. 

they sit at an angle where they can still watch him from afar, and settle down with their drink just in time to see another patron wander into yuma’s space and take the seat that 96 had been consistently hogging until now. 

96 purses their own lips as yuma registers his new client and immediately flashes the other human his familiar sly smile. his hips begin to move just as playfully, the thin fabric covering his inner thighs and crotch flirting up with each slow, sensual sway. 

it’s not hard to keep up the laser focus 96 has on him. already yuma’s knees are sliding across the surface of the stage, legs slowly yawning wide and narrow again as his hands move up to caress his neck, then play with the edge of his hair. 96 had already known in their first night that most of the dancers weren’t to be touched unless the client wanted an unpleasant visit from the den’s guards, but even so, their nails had been clawing and nicking the skin of their chair as they watched yuma dance, his hands smoothing his own skin and making 96 want to reach out and replace his touches with their own – pet yuma’s neck and hair and wring, pull down and clench. 

maybe that’s why the entertainers here are untouchable. 96 can’t be the only one to have seen their boy and want to dig deep into him, watch the perfect flesh bloom with 96′s own brands and delight in the prospect that he would have to wear them all through the next day. as much as 96 has been avoiding the thought, yuma and most of the workers here still very much have to remain public eyecandy. 

they test yuma’s composure, shifting in their seat and checking if yuma would glimpse the movement. he does. when 96 pushes themself from the bar, yuma’s attention flits briefly at the by now familiar figure stalking closer to his stage again before he looks away. 96 could preen, and nearly smiles as they make to lean on a nearby wall, taking the bartender’s advice and enjoying the show even as the main seat is taken. 

96 doesn’t catch the movement yuma’s patron makes until yuma himself reacts, the ease in his face replaced immediately by eyes flitting wide, and for the first time, 96 hears him yelp as his leg is yanked off the stage by his client’s hand, his own arms bracing the edge to keep himself away. 

96 reacts once yuma is dragged off, and instead of getting hauled into an unfamiliar lap, yuma falls gracelessly on the floor, 96 not bothering to wait for the den’s guards and opting to circle their hands around the other man’s throat, their other hand fisting his hair and yanking him out of the chair so that the stranger topples over with it, 96 standing in between and over both humans. 

they peer over to see yuma scrambling back up to stand before the other man can regain himself, even as the stranger curses, “who the hell do you think you are! you think the whole den belongs to you? i have just as much right to the entertainment as anyone else–” 

he’s down again from 96′s fist as soon as he makes to stand, and 96 takes the opportunity to kick him while he’s down as well, the tip of their boot smacking the human’s gut repeatedly until yuma’s hands grip at their arm and tug. 

“that’s enough, that’s enough!” yuma’s commanding tone turns out to sound as firm as he looks, and it gets 96 to step back, pressing their side to yuma as two of the den’s barians march up. 

one of them grabs the fallen human’s arm while the second takes a moment to hover close to 96 and eyes them. 

“ _you’re welcome_ ,” they bark at the suspicion oozing from the guard. the barian’s eyes squint at the sentiment, but yuma speaks up once more before either can instigate. 

“it was just him that was causing trouble, gilag.” yuma waves at the slumped form the other barian carries. his other hand, 96 is happy to note, is still curled around their arm. “thank you.” 

gilag, then, takes the injured client’s other arm and helps carry his weight, the two bouncers breaking through the small crowds towards one of the den’s exits. 

“hey,” yuma calls, as though 96 wouldn’t have turned to check on him regardless. “uhm. thanks.” 

likely following 96′s train of thought, yuma’s head ducks down, his eyes darting to the bar and other points of the den in what would have otherwise just looked like bashfulness (though 96 wouldn’t complain if he is). they smirk and decide to tease, “he talks!” 

“yeah,” yuma groans quietly, then stammers, “yeah, i’m actually… well, i shouldn’t, but…it’s not like it’s a _serious_ rule…” 

“it’s just an ordinary rule?” 96 mocks back, and their smile grows wider with yuma’s pout, a part of them soaking in their pet’s new reactions and expressions, and his _voice_. “why couldn’t you have broken such an insignificant rule sooner?” 

“i bet you would have liked that.” yuma finally eases back, letting 96 go only for them to latch onto his wrist again. they can feel him tense some as they lean in closer, yuma’s weariness so pronounced 96 could breathe it. 

“i think you know there are some other ways you can thank me.” they release him then, stepping back and indulging him with some personal space. even with the lights this dim, they can see the tint of pink in yuma’s cheeks, and it pushes 96 to test their luck. quickly, they lean down to peck yuma’s face, and in return their boy yelps again and stares at 96 with what’s honestly a disproportionally scandalized expression. 

“yuma!” the familiar voice of the bartender who seems to like 96 the least causes both of them to turn. “i heard what happened,” he says consolingly while approaching. “i’m sorry i didn’t see. but i’ve been told you’re free to take the rest of the night off duty if you want.”

he peers at 96 when the latter doesn’t move away at being ignored. as always, he’s blatantly displeased to see them, but doesn’t say anything. 

“actually, i’d like that,” yuma answers. 96 perks up when yuma peeks at them. “i’ll take it. …i should go.” 

his sentence fades uncertainly, and 96 isn’t sure if it’s their perception or their wishful thinking, but it’s almost as though yuma is reluctant to leave without a proper send-off. 

so they smile and tsk, “shame.” part from boldness and part from spite towards their extra company, they reach up and rub their thumb on the side of yuma’s face. he startles away. “unless you’ll suggest spending the rest of the night out with me?” 

“he won’t,” the bartender blunts. 96 has half the mind to glare and reply, but yuma stutters past his blush and agrees. 

“yeah, i shouldn’t!” he steps back, continuing, “it’s against the rules, uhm. but, you know, i guess–” he stares at 96 and says softly, “i’ll see you…tomorrow…?” 

96 can’t get a hold of whether yuma is pacifying or hopeful or a bit of both, but takes the attempt at a casual goodbye regardless. “of course,” they promise. 

the smile yuma gives is small and as reluctant as his tone, and he turns away. 96 takes their time watching yuma’s retreating backside until he turns into the corridor. 

the barian says nothing, and only glares at 96 once more before returning to his post. 96 themself idles, decides to tend to the familiar chair no one else had paid much mind to and pulls it upright again. the empty space feels simply nostalgic without any delicious human writhing on stage, so soon enough, 96 makes their way towards the bar as well, opting to simmer down with another drink before leaving. 

* * *

as soon as they spot kaito loitering by the walls outside the den, they congratulate themself on deciding to drink after all. they may need it. 

“this isn’t really your scene, is it, commander?” they approach instead of ignoring him. as much as the uptight ass deserves disregard, he probably deserves to be chewed out even more. “unless i had the wrong impression of you all along. what are you doing here?” 

“occupying a public space,” he answers. “something not worth being questioned over. unless you’d like to explain yourself as well.” 

so he knows. 96 outright sneers, “astral got you to _watch me_ during personal hours now too?” 

“it was my idea,” kaito counters, like it makes any difference. he braces himself from the wall and faces 96 fully. “we both noticed your behavior as of late. i know your kind doesn’t need as much rest or sleep as humans, but even for an astral being – especially one like you – you’ve clearly been exhausted lately. it’s part of our job to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid, on assignment or not.” 

“how considerate! what’s the verdict, then?” they challenge, all the more irate at their commander’s coolness. “from your thoughtful observations, have i earned another few months under lockdown? or just a slap on the wrist? honestly, i’ve done nothing i haven’t done before.” 

“i disagree.” the reply makes 96 clench their teeth and hiss. “i’m surprised you had the gall to pick a fight in the first place. i read up on your history. i know the shit you had to go through the last time you hurt someone outside of a mission, and your orders tell you to hold back as much. yet here you are, risking your freedom in this tactless place. what for?” 

96 can feel their insides tremble with the threatening undercurrent kaito gives off, their insides vibrating with the anticipation of being let free once more to do damage. they’ll have not much to lose if kaito is willing to put force where his mouth is, if he’s really ready to take 96 into secure custody again. and everyone knows they’d never surrender quietly, policy and futility be damned. 

“what i do in my own time is, quite frankly, none of your business,” 96 glowers, figuring to make their point before the potential for a fight or escape blows out. 

kaito shrugs. “not according to my orders, actually, nor astral’s. you know that.” 

96 nearly sees red before kaito sighs and concedes, “but i’m impressed.” the look he gives 96 is almost like a cringe when he says, “not by the way you’re ready to jump at my throat for stating a truth, but…i honestly didn’t see you as the type to defend another person at a risk to yourself. it was good of you.” 

“ _i don’t need your praise_.” though it does get 96 to reign themself back, realizing what the point of kaito’s runaround speech is; not that it was worth it. “i didn’t do it so you can give me a gold star.” 

he glares. serves him right. “no one in their right mind would give you anything, never mind a prize for simply being _decent_ , but in your case, it’s a sad improvement. that dancer–” 96′s jaw tightens at the mention “–you like him. right?” 

“so what.” it is exactly why 96 had wanted to act more quickly in the first place once it dawned on them just how strong their appetite for yuma is, enough that they keep coming back to the same den every night. _they would never let me have you._  “is that anything to be worried over?” 

“no,” kaito answers. they can’t tell if he’s being completely honest or not. “it’s a good thing, obviously. you’re even protecting him. why wouldn’t you think to let astral know about this? they’d like the news.” 

“i’ll pass,” 96 drawls. “it’s tiring enough to have the both of you breathing down my neck; what more if i start getting pats on the back on top of it.” 

“how horrible.” it’s not as though 96 hasn’t considered it before, but it would no doubt incur the unwelcome monitoring from their said supervisor during 96′s visits to the den – just as their commander is doing now. “you can count me out of admiring you for something this small. but no one can deny you did help someone today.” 

“are you saying you’d put in a good word for me?” 96 scoffs. “write me a recommendation letter? grant me a position where i have access to more freedoms?” 

“don’t push your luck.” kaito advises. in vain. “i thought we ought to follow you tonight and watch. i thought you’d be found in something sinister, and i was wrong.” 

and 96 finally smiles, if insincerely. “at least i’m happy to provide more of your personal follies.” 

kaito frowns and starts moving away. his words still hold an insufferable amount of warning rather than any sort of amicability, “keep up the good work.” 

96 doesn’t deem the farewell any sort of response, their gaze simply following kaito’s movement until he’s out of sight. the air just outside the den isn’t particularly clean or refreshing either, but it’s definitely not as stifling. the barriers built inside kaito’s brain, however, as well the the ones he wears even casually prevent 96 from being able to read more than what the human would let him – and of course the asshole would want them to pick up on the more antagonistic emotions. 

they allow themself to stand leisurely for a few more moments and shake off the tension that the conversation left on them before finally moving to the direction of a corridor nearby. the deeper they go, the stronger the impressions of anger and pain and greed are, all from past visitors looking to make some illicit exchange – though the agony radiates from one source in particular. 

“you’re a dick,” the man spits. 96 sees him hunched over and clutching his middle, struggling to stand but still able to throw 96 as dirty of a look as the pain in his face would allow. “don’t tell me you came to finish what you started? fucking hypocrite.” 

“i think you’ve had enough for one day. but you did handle my boy a little too roughly.” they smile at the glint of fear in his eyes, toying with the idea. “grabbing him the way you did. effective, but if i find a bruise there and know it’s not from me, then, well, maybe i won’t care about how much beatings you can handle for one day.” 

he visibly flinches when 96 reaches into their inner coat pocket, and they know the human is ready to flee as best he can. they pluck out the credits they owe him out quickly then, and witness relief come over him at the sight of money as opposed to something that would’ve made his night a lot worse. 

when he makes no move to meet 96 halfway for his payment, 96 tosses it to his feet. “as we agreed.” 

“i’m never doing this for you again,” he grunts, more so when bending over to retrieve 96′s offer. “it was just an act. you were just supposed to hit me once, maybe! but _this_ – i’m going to feel this for a week.” 

“i left a tip,” 96 consoles; grins when they’re met with another dark look. “don’t be so down. if i didn’t engage in some theatrics, it would’ve been less believable, and you wouldn’t have gotten your reward.” 

they don’t wait for a response and leave, taking a deep breath of the man’s pointless fury as they add, “serves you right for how crudely you handled him.” 96 themself hadn’t considered that yuma might be injured, however mildly, from their hired help; had pictured the man giving yuma some unwelcome groping, though that honestly would not have incurred any less of a reaction from 96. 

regardless, it got 96 what they had hoped for when they cooked up this plan. in fact, yuma seems to have reacted far more positively than 96 would have thought. there had been a cute sort of hesitance from him at whether or not to banter, on how to say goodbye, and they dare say there had even been a hesitance to leaving the way he did. 

that possibility in particular makes a part of 96 gleeful. it’s been long since they’ve felt this strongly towards any certain desire, since something they’ve been truly greedy for has been any sort of close. the eagerness almost makes 96 uncertain of what they’d even _do_  to yuma should he actually walk into 96′s grasp, almost makes them tentative on how to act next so that he could be _kept_  there. 

(but if everything goes smoothly, if 96 can keep up this unfamiliar way of _scheming_ to get what they want, maybe yuma wouldn’t be able to escape by the end of this anyway.) 

kaito’s appearance is a wrench in their plans, but from his words, perhaps even his rude drop-by is more of a benefit for 96 in the long run. the only person they had aimed to affect from the staged stunt was yuma, but if even their commander begins to see 96 in a less hostile light, then 96 can’t say they would be displeased with the new privileges that may offer. 

they wouldn’t get their hopes up on that front, though. even when giving his approval, kaito had made it clear what his impression of 96 remained to be, even having the gall to outright admit that he elected for 96 to be spied on tonight.  _i thought we ought to follow you._ the intentional casualness he used to describe such a detestable aspect of 96′s days causes the flesh 96 wears to feel prickly and tense. 

it makes them pause too, the memory suddenly triggering a nauseating wave of paranoia.  _i thought we ought to follow you._  on impulse, they look behind them, and don’t feel any better at seeing no one there. they spread their reach and can’t find it in themself to be convinced that they’re safe even when the familiar presence of astral is nowhere near enough to be felt; they know as well as anyone from their world and the galactical alliance that astral has strong enough abilities to block out someone as comparatively inexperienced from detecting them. 

they curse aloud. it was careless to have agreed to pay the roach on the same night. 96 hurries back to their home, weighing the likeliness of astral having disagreed with kaito’s plan in the first place, or of having left along with their human comrade once the commander gave his report of what he saw 96 do. it’s not a stretch; otherwise, why wouldn’t astral have shown themself by now? 

yes. that 96 had made the exchange with the impostor just now without prying eyes is still a stronger likelihood. they berate themself anyway, for not having picked up on kaito’s revolting throw-away phrase and what it could mean, for not being able to do anything about the feeling of eyes honed on them as they retire, for the sinking and gradually worsening feeling of their paranoia being perfectly justified. 


	2. that's driving me

they decide to take the next day off. 

it’s not like any section of the alliance is understaffed. and it’s not like kaito won’t be around to give astral or whoever else would be concerned a decent enough explanation for their absence, which, best case scenario assumed, might be something like, “the benevolence took its toll on them.” 

worst case scenario in mind, though, and taking the day off seems just as fair of a decision. (an understatement; worst case scenario and 96 should probably be planning a hideout or escape plan that’s at least a little less sloppy than to simply bulldoze anything that would try to stop them.) 

so they spend the day pooling enough credits, just short enough that it wouldn’t seem immediately suspicious. they look through their options and the contacts they’re no longer sure their supervisors are aware of or not, but they book places to stay anyway should a run to a spaceport be impossible after all. 

it’s exhausting. 96 tries to avoid the thought of it being outright humiliating; other criminals and even disgraced officials do this all the time – transgress in some way and then run or hide as soon as the deed is done, and though 96 has wondered if they should follow in those footsteps before, trying it for themself now strikes them as simply too much of a bother. as though a larger part of them is revolted at the thought and preparation to simply flee rather than fight. 

not preferable, but doable – though they doubt they may ever grow used to it. they walk into the den with the least amount of enthusiasm they’ve had since they’ve started, and instead of making a beeline for their favorite stage, they stop by the bar and hope a particularly strong drink would help lift their spirits. 

“ugh,” they’re instead greeted with the most welcoming bartender out of all the ones in the den. 96 almost snaps at him for the sentiment, but he cuts in. “yuma’s been waiting for you. fuck if i know why. your spot’s reserved.” 

immediately he is forgiven for the previous sound of disgust. 96 doubts the drink will be more effective in changing their mood as dramatically as the news has, but orders one anyway. it’s prepared and poured for them with as much grumbling as 96 would expect by now, and they snatch it from the table as soon as it’s in front of them, feeling just a bit lighter as they saunter towards their sweet dancer’s direction. 

they have wondered all day what they would do with him, too, if their whole life has to go to shit again for kaito’s prying. everything in 96 leans towards snatching yuma away and having him run or hide alongside them as opposed to just searching for him again once the smoke clears. they let the question sit quietly for now once they catch sight of yuma’s stage. 

96 has seen individual dancer’s areas curtained off before, the easy installation guarding the stage and seating around it from the usual prying eyes, and they’ve always assumed that what goes on behind the closed covers are what to be expected. their anticipation is only slightly dampened when a program opens itself just outside the entrance, and an electronic voice monotones, “we request that during your private session, you follow all the following guidelines–” 

they slap the curtain open and closed again, pushing the droning sound out of their immediate attention as they soak up the image of yuma standing beside the pole, in an outfit 96 has glimpsed plenty of times on the female dancers and that looks just as enticing on yuma as well. 

96 takes it upon themself to get comfortable in the audience chair as yuma starts to move, his heels clicking and hips swaying, slow as he circles his prop and watching as 96′s eyes linger on his legs, how the thigh-high material clings tightly to the plump flesh. 

both his hands rest on the pole as he bends forward, ass out and back curved before he brings himself upright again. 96 smiles wider, and yuma replies with one of his own as he crouches, the pole between his thighs, and like that, he bobs his hips slowly up and down, his hands stoking the metal with eager hands and letting his head tilt back just a bit, his mouth open in a sigh. 

96 hopes they can make yuma look just like that again later, when their expectations for this surprise special are acted on and yuma can have all the flesh that 96 would let him pet as he wants. 

he reigns back and spins from his crouch, talented legs twirling so that they help him slide to the front of the pole now, and he kneels, pressing his back against the prop as his hands stay over him, crossed behind the bar. the way he shifts, rubbing himself on it, has 96 wondering if yuma might be teasing his own entrance before coming to them with how the shaft presses in between his cheeks. 

when yuma eventually leans forward, in a crawl at the edge of his stage, 96 lets their legs rest wider apart. yuma shifts, stepping off and sauntering closer to them. 

96 has barely sipped their drink. yuma grabs it and takes gulps of his own as he slides easily onto 96′s lap. 96 makes a sharp sound, still eyeing yuma’s throat as he swallows. he puts the glass down on the small table beside them once he’s done. 

they let him take a moment to stare at them now, bright eyes studying them up-close and his spark confirming the excitement they feel isn’t just coming from them. he settles himself between 96′s thighs, then, his torso facing them, so close that 96 would be kissing it if they weren’t already leaning back, and like that, he dances, swaying his hips and curling his body languidly in front of them. 

“you could have just said another thank you,” 96 jibes against him, hoping their breath is as hot against yuma’s skin as it feels leaving their throat. yuma bends back again, limber and obscene, his growing arousal nearly greeting 96 right in the face from under the tight material of his clothes, but 96 catches yuma’s playful smile. “honestly, that was all i was expecting, if anything. it’s nice of you to surprise me.” 

he reigns himself back up and replies, “i am, aren’t i,” bobbing his hips again as his upper body sways to face one way and the next, showing off all its angles. 

something in his expression is inviting (and the energy 96 tastes holds something expectant) as he raises his arms over him and his hips start to rock before them. 96 needs no further prodding, and gropes up yuma’s thigh until they cup his ass experimentally. 

yuma’s hands come down, and instead of meeting theirs moves to the tips of his stockings, his thumbs tucking into them and tugging them down teasingly. 

96 gets the message, uses both hands to jerk the material down on both legs, infinitely more eager than yuma’s tauntingly gradual movements. the markings on yuma’s inner thigh immediately catch 96′s eye, and though any rational mind would have instantly recognized what the marks are even from this angle, 96′s head feels in enough of a haze that it takes them a moment to fully comprehend what it is their eyes are resting on. 

“baby doll,” 96 rumbles. “are you giving a scary stranger your gazer code?” 

“you don’t like it?” yuma ventures. 96 lifts him up as soon as he plays at closing his legs to hide it, and he yelps. 

they can feel how firmly his arousal has become as they stand, carrying him by his legs and taking the step to the short stage before laying him back down on it, pulling on him almost like he was pulled last night, moving his legs close to the edge before lifting his thighs up over him and spreading them wide. 

“do you mind if i get this down?” 96 asks sweetly, their own device already whipped out and ready. they hope they can catch the wide-eyed look on yuma’s face. “i have such a shit memory.” 

“i–” yuma’s voice falters. 96 doesn’t wait, the image of yuma already prepared for saving. they almost forget to focus on his code in the sight of his face and the feel of him squirming. “actually i, i’m not supposed to, ah – pictures are…” 

the device makes a sound, capturing yuma’s image and cutting him off. “sorry, i missed,” 96 says. they zoom out in their gazer’s settings, yuma’s scrawl legible now. “no one else will see,” they promise, and stare at yuma’s apprehensive eyes as they reiterate more firmly, “no one else will see this,” looking at yuma past the gazer. 

he doesn’t say anything else, but makes a small cry when 96′s gazer sounds in an indication for something more than just a holopic. “say _ah_ ,” they instruct, hand flying to yuma’s hardness and pressing, stroking. 

yuma gives the desired reaction, and the hand holding 96′s gazer grows tight enough they worry it will either break or tremble enough to ruin the quality of their vid. they lay it down beside them, then, and lean down so that their lips just touch the strain in yuma’s restricted crotch as they speak over his tiny gasps. 

(not like 96 has ever been known for being _shy_.) 

“i bet it’s against the rules to give customers your code too,” they muse against him, kissing. yuma’s hands fly to 96′s hair, fingers stroking through the tough strands. “i was right, wasn’t i?” 

despite their choosing to give yuma a hard lick and nip through his clothes, they hope yuma is still listening past his own keens. “this place is too tight for you.” their hands play with yuma through the material again. he blushes harder and stares to the side. “restricted. isn’t it? do you think i can break you out, whether they like it or not?” 

he doesn’t answer right away. 96 isn’t expecting him to, actually preferring if yuma is too distracted from what they’re doing to reply straight away. “yes,” yuma hisses, belatedly, soft like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. 

96 swoops down, kisses his lips as a reward. something in 96 trembles and cracks when yuma replies into it, reminiscent of times when a deep anger hits 96 and makes them want to spawn into a truer form for havoc’s sake. they let their jaw unhinge, stretch a little wider, the hell with whether or not yuma notices– or rather, having him squirm at the feel of the change would be _delightful_. 

they cover yuma’s mouth, teeth sharp and grazing yuma’s lips and at the sides of his mouth. they want to let themself grip yuma deeper by their jaws. they want to taste just a bit of what’s inside, have yuma bleed and cry out from underneath them. he would look good with just a bit of scratches on his face, like he were 96′s little warrior, like a mildly injured pet. he would look good naked and trickling and on his back. 

yuma feels the shifting shape of 96′s face, they can tell. they aren’t trying to keep it subtle, after all. he tenses, stills for a split second, then moans. whimpers. shoulders draw tighter together, and his back arches tentatively, pressing onto 96 from beneath them. 

has he made love outside of his species before? the thought has 96 clawing at yuma’s skin, knowing they’re doing it hard enough to draw blood. if it weren’t for them covering yuma’s mouth, his cry would have been heard from outside. 

“we can’t…” he trails off, and doesn’t push 96 away so much as lean from away from them and pause. they got carried away; likely their impression on what is and isn’t allowed to be done to yuma’s body is right, and the sensation of 96 actually marring his flesh is enough to snap him out of a lustful haze. “we can’t… not here.” 

“then leave with me.” they claw him gently, though it doesn’t seem to have the calming effect 96 was going for, yuma only shivering from the sensation and the outright demand, however quiet. “i can take you from here. i can look after you.” 96 can see and feel equal flashes of doubt and temptation coming from him, the skepticism over 96′s promise battling with his increasingly obvious desire to _leave_  without stipulation. 

so, they finish with, “i’ll show you all of me.” part because yuma is a curious thing. because they’ve made him want what they can give and do to him enough that he wants to say yes. they know it. 

and he does. “show me.” his voice shakes, but it’s definite, and the stroke he gives to the tip of 96′s now malformed mouth makes it even more so. 

he is in every sense a dream that 96 aims to make wet and writhing. they lean down to kiss him before speaking again, because they have to. they shift decisively now, their shoulders smoothing over and losing the width and sharpness their excitement had inspired, their jaw and hands reverting in the same way. “i’ll wait for you outside. by the back. don’t be long.” 

there’s a heaviness to the direction. 96 has little doubt that after what the two of them just shared – _could share_  more of again – that they could do little else besides come back and drag yuma out themself should 96 have to wait too long. it’s a mixture of eagerness and the remnants of panic and paranoia that had clung to 96 since last night, and the urgency to tie this human to their side only heightens. 

“i won’t,” yuma says. “don’t forget your gazer.” 

“how can i,” 96 smiles back, nabbing it and quickly pressing it to quit recording before pocketing it. “it has such precious, confidential information now, after all.” 

his grin is small. 96 knows they cannot kiss the nervousness from him, nor do they want to completely. tension on yuma is a refreshing thing, like a strong scent. they plant a brief kiss on his neck anyway, and then lower while they’re at it. 

96 helps fix him up. they can’t help but feel like they shouldn’t take their time doing it, not to mention all they ought to do is help yuma upright and then be on their way, but their touches linger on him, because of course they do. 96 hands his shoulders and back, his hips and neck. 

they leave the closed off area first. one of the bartenders, 96′s _favorite_ , turns at their exit, and 96 replies to the narrowed gaze with an easy smile of their own. they hadn’t bothered to smooth out their own hair or clothes. let people think. 

their gazer is whipped out before they even step outside, and 96 pauses at the photo, at yuma’s creative way of sharing himself. they dial the code as soon as it’s memorized, and just like that, their first message to yuma, out of what will hopefully be countless, is simply, “hurry.” 

they feel the tension a step before they cross the entranceway to leave. 96’s smile flits and leaves, and they outright startle at kaito once again staring them down from just outside the den, shoulders square and face like stone – the commander’s typical mission stance. 

apparently 96′s off-guard gawk must have spoken enough for them, because kaito answers the silent look with, “you should come with us.” 

“ _what?_ ” it isn’t entirely unexpected. yes, 96 looked forward to having more _time_  before they could potentially be found out, but there is always a chance of the notorious commander – and of _astral_  – being one step ahead of their targets. 

but 96 had relaxed. getting away with it all, with _yuma_ , had been just in their reach, right in front of him. they don’t remember a time when they felt as harsh a whiplash as seeing kaito here is. 

“don’t panic.” kaito would have sounded exasperated if he were more casual. the nuance pricks at 96 like a last straw. “this doesn’t have to be hard. no one else besides astral and i know about what’s going on or what happened. this doesn’t have to blow up like last time.” 

96 doesn’t bother playing at composure. “like hell it does.” they see kaito breathe sharply at the growl. they’ve never truly fought each other before, but kaito knows what to expect. “where is astral?” 

“astral’s coming. we want to _help_.” kaito snaps at 96′s petulance. “but we can’t just let you go on the way you are now. we can’t just let you get away with what you did–” 

“ **where is astral!** ” it is deafening, for one moment drowning out the night life sounds of everything else – the music, the conversations, the subtle breeze and the constant hum of the metropolis. no pretense of containment or care, but only in voice – 96 manages to keep their form from lashing out and expanding, but that doesn’t stop the handfuls of crowds around them from stopping at the sudden screech, something promising sudden violence. and last time, it did. 

96 doesn’t wait for kaito’s reply, already knowing. they whirl around and rush back into the den, knowing their commander would give chase. 96′s feet lift from the floor, and they allow themself to fly more swiftly into the area they’ve thought of bullying their way through several times before. 

two bouncers block 96′s path to the backstage area, and 96 waits to get closer before they let tendrils flare out from their lower back, the tentacles quickly coming to their front and bulldozing the pair of barians towards the far wall. the two of them land with loud bangs, and 96 takes the opportunity to knock all the doors within sight open, their tentacles blooming out to try and wrench as many ajar at once. 

astral shows themself before 96 can exert much more effort into looking, coming out from one of the opened doorways and looking as alert and disappointed as 96 could have predicted. from astral’s arms, familiar tendrils of their own push out from their flesh like waves, sharper than 96′s, resembling barbed wire. and astral has always been faster. 

it did’t stop 96 before. all the more so now, especially at the sight of yuma from behind astral, scared doe eyes peering over the emissary’s shoulder and at the scene before them, his focus on 96 a mix of incredulousness and panic. 

he was already dressed when astral got to him. he was ready to _leave_. 96 knows they will always be intimate with the part of themself that would scream and roar as they did outside, the part that sees red and would barrage on others even for lesser slights. it comes to the forefront now, freely, 96′s appendages all hailing towards astral with a piercing yell. 

astral’s arms extend, their own barbs springing out like thunder, some of them tearing right through 96′s as the rest meet the opposing tentacles head-on, blocking and pushing back, wrapping around the snakes and restraining. 96 seethes and draws closer, their hands once more growing longer and tougher, ready to claw at astral up-close. maybe try to tear with teeth into their flesh once more. 

“96!” 96 turns back, finding kaito with one of his rifles aimed at them, whether the ammunition inside is set to stun or more a mystery. “stand down _now_!” 

kaito knows they won’t listen, seeming to fire as soon as the order is spoken without waiting for 96′s response. 96 dodges, whirling along with their tendrils, drawing on more so that several aim to attack kaito now as well. with his suit’s shields up, the ones that do manage to strike him despite his evasion don’t deal nearly as much damage as they would otherwise, but the force is enough to knock him back, having him slide harshly on the floor. 

it gives astral enough time for their own whips to reach 96′s body. 96 is all too aware of how astral has considerately blunted the things as a few manage to hook around their waist and arms. they’re familiar with how capable astral’s extensions are of not just striking but slicing, even through beings such as the two of them who don’t bleed easily. 

that part of 96 is relieved by it only serves to grate them even more. 96 wraps pieces of themself around the bonds astral has on them, pressing onto astral and _pulling_ , astral’s appendages trembling with the effort to keep their hold. and despite how astral infuriatingly holds back, 96 grips at astral’s dulled spikes hard enough that they start to inevitably be cut. 

neither of them retreats or gentles from the sensation. that, and the sight of kaito quickly righting himself while the two barians 96 had run over slowly pick themselves back up, has 96 gritting their teeth, both at the apprehension over their next move and to brace themself for it. 

they do it quickly, their whole form snapping harshly and letting the tentacles that were trapped in astral’s own tear, most of them shattering from the movement. bits of violet burst from where they break. 96′s main body, too, shears – across their middle and along their arms. they let themself scream at the pain, and whether from shock at the noise or from 96′s action, astral’s grip loosens. 

the emissary’s gasp is unusually loud, enough for 96 to be able to hear it even through the ordeal, but beside it, yuma’s cry of alarm resonates. 

96 morphs themself, taking advantage of astral’s stunned disposition and briefly slimming enough to slip from astral’s grasp. they grunt from the exertion, a more difficult thing to do while wounded. astral isn’t fast enough to grasp 96 again, and once more free, the latter glances at the directions of each of their enemies before aiming more extensions of themself outward, the appendages flaying out like splashes. 

yuma had moved, fast and surprisingly graceful, when 96 had been focused on astral and kaito in particular. “96!” where yuma’s voice comes from does the better job of throwing 96 off than just the call itself. their eyes whip to where he skids just in front of the two barians, and 96′s tentacles swerve, their panic and anger taken out on denting the walls beside yuma with long whipped cracks. 

yuma and his company behind him flinches, his head ducking at the loud bangs. in the corner of their eye, 96 catches kaito aiming at them again, and with a hiss, they move out of the way. 

at least astral had been hit back, even if it wasn’t as damaging as 96 had intended before the distraction. astral makes to scramble back, their tendrils twitching as they recover, and 96 is able to take the chance and throw their own past astral’s defenses, knocking them across the chest and blowing them down on their side. 

yuma yells. “ _stop!_ ” no one does, 96 getting hit by kaito’s firing and faltering, nearly nosediving before righting themself and weaving to avoid kaito’s target. 

96 nearly mistakes yuma as another oncoming assault, the human grasping onto one of 96′s tentacles and using it as a thread to reach its source. 

for a moment, it interrupts 96′s adrenaline rush, and they can’t help but pause, unsure of what to do. apparently, kaito feels the same way, his hold on his weapon dipping at yuma coming between the two of them. 

96’s tendrils pause in mid-air all about them, torn between making room for yuma or taking the chance to seize him – but to what end in this scenario? when yuma reaches them, he grasps at 96′s arms, much like last night, restraining and consoling. 

“don’t do this.” and then yuma opens his mouth again, but he doesn’t speak, stopping himself from reasoning or listing all the cons to 96′s actions, but his gaze speaks enough for him. his voice trails off once his eyes land on 96′s mid-section, the gashes there still soaking into 96′s clothes. “shit.” 

it stings, but they’ve been able to push it to the back of their mind easily, their malice, as always, winning out on what to drive them. 

now, though, yuma reaches as though to cover the wound, and 96 finds themself stopping him. “it’s fine,” they snap. it isn’t, really, but they have _no time for this_. they brush it off honestly enough, “stop that. this isn’t like the way it is for humans.” 

“but _can’t you stop?_ ” yuma yells. kaito, oddly enough, lowers his weapon completely, letting it hang by his side and simply watching the exchange. “before it _does_ get worse, can’t you just– go with them? peacefully?” 

“is the impression that i would something i’ve given you?” it’s gruff and deadpan, and creates the desired effect, yuma’s face becoming crestfallen, but even so, 96 considers it, as pointless as the thought is now. the situation can no longer revert back to anything close to peaceful, but however reckless yuma’s actions are, he just willingly placed himself in the line of fire – had looked at what 96 is capable of and thought to close a wound instead of fleeing. 

96 pushes the impact that his actions have away. they step around yuma as their arm wraps around his waist, their focus returning to astral. at once, both astral and kaito are on guard again, except this time, yuma’s presence beside 96 makes them both reluctant to attack. 

yuma yells their name again, and 96 doesn’t need to feed on anger and frustrations to realize those emotions in yuma’s voice. kaito moves, attempting to circle around them and find an opening as astral’s spears wriggle wildly back into combat. in a second, several shoot towards 96. 

96 rears theirs forward to block and sacrifice themselves to protect their main body just as yuma hugs them from behind, restraining. and whether he realizes it or not, whether intentional or not, his arms press right into 96′s sliced mid-section. 

96 feels no malice emitting from him, but it doesn’t stop the pain from the act, and doesn’t stop 96 from crying out from it. most of their tentacles miss hindering astral’s. one moment, 96 is shocked in yuma’s embrace, and the next, they are wrenched from him, yanked off the floor by astral’s less physically hurtful (but just as agonizing) hold. they barely have time to struggle out of it again before they hear the familiar sound of kaito’s weapon firing a multitude of times. of course – it would have to take more than just one to sedate them. 

* * *

he is still there when they wake. 

he chose to be here, chose to stay until 96 woke. they know this almost as soon as their eyes open and scan the familiar room in the infirmary to meet his. 

his disappointment just as immediately wraps around them like a wet blanket. “how much did they tell you?” 96 asks, undeterred by how raspy and quiet and weak their own voice sounds. whatever kaito used to stun them fucking _worked_. “did they just tell you about the set-up, or were you given the equivalent of an urban legend about how bad i am?” 

yuma doesn’t answer right away, and 96 is instead first met with sullen silence. anger is still there, prominent, and though no longer impulsive, it is somehow stronger now in his silence and brooding. it’s much like the emotions that had drawn 96 to the den in the first place, so sweet to 96′s nature and unique appetites that any opportunity to feast on those despondencies is usually welcomed. 

even now, yuma’s irritability is delicious. like 96 still getting their favorite dish even on a rather spectacularly shitty day. 

96 doesn’t think yuma is in the mood to talk, but he answers belatedly. “i don’t need to be told you’re no good. that much was obvious from day one.” his voice is quiet, nearly grumbling, not trying at all to disguise his displeasure. 96 manages a small smile at the jab. “i know you were trying to stalk me. you _told me_  you were. i know you’re dangerous. no one needs to tell me you’re dangerous.” 

“brave boy.” but yuma wrinkles his nose at the praise and grits his teeth. 

“the work i do–… _did_ makes us used to creeps. occassionally. but you were different. you were…” skepticism coats his next description, regardless of how true it is. “you’re part of the _intergalactic alliance_. i saw you in uniform. and you weren’t just a creep,” he says, more sure. “you were something else. and i was right. you were a way out, too, and i…” 

he doesn’t need to finish. 96 figured that was the case as well, had played through yuma’s wishes and fascination with them well enough. “what am i now, then?” they ask. 

“an asshole.” yuma’s glare is accompanied by his fists clenching, one rubbing his head in agitation. they wonder if he would hit them if they weren’t already on their back. “is it true that you’re an empath? do you like it when people are mad at you?” 

“is that what it looks like.” and 96 does smile more fully this time. “that’s not quite it, dollface. i was made to be closer to an emotional vampire than an actual empath.” 

“i should have thought as much.” yuma banters. a hint of playfulness. those that can juggle interactions and conversations with 96 are few and far between, and this laughably naive human has been one of the more preferable, even now. “astral mentioned that too. that you were made, not born.” 

96 has no answer to that, only waits. the mention of their superior has them truly confronting their current situation all over again. whatever astral had revealed about their past – both their pasts, maybe – evidently wasn’t enough to scare yuma away. still, it doesn’t sit well with 96 that they have little clue what he’s been told aside from what he’s willing to share, 96 not currently having the strength to push him into saying more. 

at the very least, they aren’t restrained, and would be able to move freely once kaito’s stuns wear off. they can only guess what sort of security is on standby just outside the room, then, to make up for it. even so, they ask, “where is astral?” 

“i dunno,” yuma helpfully shrugs. “they were here before, after we talked about what would happen, about you. they told me to not judge you too harshly, can you believe that?” he scoffs. “after the two of you had just tried to dice each other up. they said you’re younger and that you _like me_. like i don’t know that.” 

96 can’t say they’re surprised. astral has had moments of over-sharing in the past, a habit that, on one hand, 96 often shares, and on the other hand, tends to get on their nerves. and they’re all too aware of the peculiar sort of soft spot astral has for them – like someone caring, somehow, for a rebellious animal one found on the street. 

“did they tell you to stay?” 96 guesses, unsure whether or not astral would. 

“no.” and it’s the more appreciated admission. “i thought you could use the company once you woke up. so i could maybe talk you down from _beating someone up_ again.” 

“you know me so well already.” though the pieces of levity in their talk have been reaching him, he doesn’t smile. 96 doesn’t usually taste or smell joy from others outside of it accompanying some kind of hostility, having to read them on others just as much as anyone else. in the absence of yuma’s, 96 imagines the moments of humor they’ve shared with him as a glinting light in a dark room. 

finally, he stands up. 96 makes no move to deter him. “i do,” he softly agrees. then, “ i should go. you’re suspended, by the way. and under some kind of house arrest. astral will tell you.” 

96 frowns, taken aback. they were expecting a single step lower than death; a lifetime in a cell on top of actual termination of employment. what they’re receiving instead, no matter how severe the services they’ll have to do for retribution, is a comparative slap on the wrist – in answer for rebellion, bodily harm, property damage… 

and yuma. 96 blinks out of their thoughts as he turns to leave. they would have just taken him if they were given the chance. 

“will you run from me?” at that, he stops and faces 96 once more. later, astral will come, with maybe kaito and maybe ena and eliphas. later, 96 can sort out what will happen to them, how they’ll be punished, how badly they fucked up on everything else. 

now, though, yuma is here, and 96 isn’t sure if this will be the last time they will be able to see him out of his own volition. 

the uncertainty strikes 96 as their own, at first – and they are sure that much of it is indeed their own, but it merges so perfectly with yuma’s that it’s hard to tell where their own disquiet ends and his begins. 

he leaves quickly, his answer muddled and unspoken. 


	3. something about you

**(8 months later)**  

96 expected the council. they got that – plus eliphas, live and in the flesh instead of the holographic image they had gotten used to seeing when aboard astral’s ships. the sight of the superior inspires the expected urge to just swing at least one punch his way. 

“eliphas is here to support our case,” astral informs quietly from beside 96 before the both of them step forward to greet 96′s judges. 96 doesn’t respond right away, taking an extra second to glower at eliphas for all it’s worth, and astral adds, placating, “please.” 

the rest of the plea is unspoken but understood nonetheless, and 96 opts for avoiding looking at eliphas and staring instead at the three councilmen. 

“late.” one of them snaps as 96 and astral stand near. he turns to his comrades. “predictable.” 

“the briefings made your last assignment sound impressive.” eliphas quickly speaks from beside the judges, an obvious attempt to interrupt any rising tensions between 96 and the other three beings who would decide their future. “catherine, especially, gave a strong testament to your actions, 96. you saved her life.” 

96 had practically thrown her for astral to catch, injured or not, but the fact still stands. the council exchanges looks of skepticism, and 96 isn’t sure if their own face is staying as neutral as they might like. no one has ever said 96 shares astral’s aptitude for composure, anyway. 

“we, too, have read reports on what happened when you went to investigate the distress beacon.” the most pleasant of the council says, then nods at the two of them. “we would like to hear about what happened from you.” 

astral answers first, as per usual. “i was supervising 96 on a routine scan of an unoccupied planet, and that’s when 96 was able to spot a distress call. we were accompanied by catherine and anna during our touch-down on the surface.” 

the cry for help was a blessing. 96 had been stuck with menial tasks for a week, their last field mission having been a sore disappointment when the human commander astral had roped them both into working with was able to defuse a conflict between the alliance and an isolated faction of anarchists. 96 and astral were able to retire to their ship with their weapons not having been unloaded and 96′s form not having had to morph. 

“the message itself was distorted but clearly asked for assistance.” astral played with the pad on their arm and allowed the council and eliphas to hear it for themselves: a man near-sobbing, static blurring and blocking his words from staying coherent, but the screams of “help” are easy to spot. 

“we were able to descend on a subvessel and locate the beacon fairly easily.” astral explains as soon as the portion of audio ends. “there were no bodies or survivors, and most of the equipment we saw were wrecked, including three other tanks like ours.” 

“and that’s when the thresher maw appeared?” one councilman asks. “and is it true, 96, that you helped your teammate get out of harm’s way?” 

“in a sense,” 96 hums. 

astral interjects immediately. “the maw caused the ground to tremble shortly before it broke aboveground. that was the only warning we had. catherine and i were investigating one of the ruined tanks when the maw appeared and caught the vehicle in its mouth. she was very close to it, and would have fallen into the gap that the maw created, but 96 was able to reach her with their ability to alter their form and pull her to a safer distance.” 

“is this true?” the most aggressive of the council asks 96 directly, doubt pouring from him. the others acknowledge 96 as well. 

astral and eliphas wait expectantly. “yes.” 96 says. beside them, astral’s tension isn’t relieved; 96 can feel themself glaring at their audience, the resentment at having to answer so compliantly to anyone apparent in their stance and biting answer. 

“96 was then further able to distract the maw while the three of us retreated back into our tank.” astral continues, the ever dutiful reporter. “anna and i helped catherine into it as 96 flew and circled the maw, striking it with their extensions to get its attention. it was through 96′s efforts that anna was able to fire so successfully at the thresher maw and kill it.” 

“and is it also true that 96 did so against your direct order?” 

someone in astral’s crew either snitched or the council is testing them. either way, astral doesn’t miss a beat. “mine was not an order so much as something one would opt to say in that situation. i yelled to get back into our vehicle’s shelter. not only was it not a formal order directed at any single person in our party, but the environment was loud at the time, with the wreckage crashing from where the maw dropped it, the ground shaking, and the maw screeching.” 

“but you _are_  96′s commander and supervisor.” the council presses. “even if it wasn’t intended, 96 should have followed your lead and direction.” 

“it was loud~” 96 sings bitterly under their breath. 

“be that as it may,” astral speaks louder over them, “an actual order was not intended, and i vouch that 96′s actions in the field be commended nonetheless. they saved their teammate’s life, and has proven once more that they are a valuable asset not just to astral world, but the intergalactic alliance when under the right guidance.” 

“granted,” one of the councilmen, not present in the flesh but joining the meeting via hologram, cautions, “the kind of _guidance_  96 seems to need in order to be kept in check may not always be present.” 

“actually,” astral says; whether or not they’re aware that they cut off eliphas from speaking first, 96 can’t tell, “if such be the need that 96 must always be supervised as they are being now, it’s doable.” 

typical. the thought has cropped up between the two of them before, but the potential prospect is something 96 suspects they will never grow used to. sneering at astral now won’t change their stance, but it’s the most 96 can do during this situation to still protest against it. 

the councilman hums. “sounds strenuous.” 

“it stands, however, that 96 has once more proven themself capable of some benevolence.” the acknowledgement nearly puts 96′s teeth on edge, but no one interrupts the council’s conclusion. “whether or not this deserves a lift in certain restraints remains undecided for now. but i think that saving a life deserves a cut in 96′s suspension?” 

“anything above four months lift off your current sentence is generous,” another scoffs. 

“ _four months?_ ” 96 snaps. 

“yes, it is befitting if not generous enough already,” astral smooths over. “it’s truly a surprise.” 

“and more than what is deserved,” eliphas adds. 96′s nails dig into their palms. 

* * *

 

“four months!?” 96 hisses at astral as the elevator descends. “that is _nothing_! do you _want_  me to rot from boredom?” 

“is that what it’ll take?” astral drawls. “our rewards will add up. they took two months out of your suspension before; now it’s four. that’s almost as long as what you’ve served until now. so trust me: stay in line, and it will pay off.” 

“and _what is_  four or six months compared to the four years i’ll have to keep acting like astral world’s untrained dog?” sans very few instances, even the field work that 96 has been allowed in have been monotonous, nearly at the same level as scanning or organizing case files. already there’ve been moments when the resentments 96 has built up manifested as barely contained tantrums. 

astral turns to stare deadpan at 96 as they reach the ground floor. “you _know_ how good you have it compared to what could have happened.” they’re the first to step out once the doors open, expecting 96 to follow their lead towards the building’s exit. “it’s a blessing that you’re even allowed to wear any uniform at all. more so that you’re still here for me to talk to.” 

“a blessing.” 96 can’t pull off the same flat expressions astral is talented in wearing, but there are times they feel that they come close. “i’m _aware_  of the miracle of my existence; no need to remind me. i just wish the same can be said for my freedom.” 

outside, astral walks them to their cab. their reply is almost blasé. “you have only yourself to blame.” 

* * *

 

astral being right about anything is going to be the bane of 96′s existence. 

at the very least, 96 is also allotted privacy, if but during a few hours a day. their new chambers, conveniently close to security, is still more-or-less under surveillance from the outside, which might be just as well, since all 96 can do for long is read or watch channels. 

gazer and extranet activity have been, typically, mostly banned. their new gazer is used only to communicate with contacts  _approved_  by their superiors, and is such only used for work. during the time of their suspension, they’ve been able to semi-successfully use two burners. both times, 96 was able to reach contacts that could throw enough credits their way before they had to discard the devices. yuma remained unreachable. 

unsurprising. 96 suspects that the human was one of the strongest reasons for their communications getting cut off in the first place. for over the first month after the incident at the den, 96 had tried several times to peg astral for information on what happened to the human, if a restraining order was ever sought. 96 still isn’t sure if astral’s eventual admission that yuma never even tried for one is better than the alternative. perhaps he simply knew that he wouldn’t even need to make an effort in the first place. 

not that 96 hasn’t tried. yuma’s gazer code and the memory of how they learned it is still intentionally fresh in 96′s mind. astral had let slide the moments of weakness when 96 would message or call that code again. so long as yuma doesn’t make it clear that the messages are unwelcome, it isn’t technically disallowed, and yuma’s only answer to 96′s efforts have been silence. 

that, or yuma had simply changed his code to avoid this kind of persistence in the first place, especially after 96 had outright promised to chase him. it’s all the more likely to be the case in the face of 96′s bolder attempts to grab the human’s attention; 96 has never truly finished any of their sketches of yuma, but it’s obvious that all of their works lack innocence or subtly, and it was almost surprising that sending one of the more lewd pictures to yuma’s code didn’t earn them a response either. 

an easily neglected daytime program is the only sound in the apartment until their doorbell rings, and 96 rises from reading their pad to slide the door open. astral arrives as promised, a sleek tablet of their own at hand, and like enough times before, 96 shifts just enough for astral to let themself in. 

“why couldn’t you talk about this over a call?” 96 asks before astral even sits down. “is it big news? have they decided to be even  _more gracious_ than they already were?” 

the sarcasm doesn’t effect astral anymore. they lay their pad beside 96′s and take it upon themself to download two files from theirs to the other’s. “yes,” astral answers. “i told you, didn’t i? please read the full texts on your new permissions. i’ll talk to you about them now, but it’s better if you have a complete understanding of them yourself.” 

“you’re kidding.” 96 flicks through their own pad as soon as the download completes, clicking on the first of the documents. 

“don’t get carried away.” astral has the tact to begin with, ignoring 96′s pointed look. “the bans on your gazer and mail have been lifted, meaning that you are now allowed to initiate contact, rather than only being able to converse when you are contacted first. your logs will still be supervised, however. please keep that in mind.” 

the news is actually something of an accomplishment, though 96 tries not to let it show in their face. instead, they let themself skim through the document before them. “it says something about more privacy rights.” 

“it’s experimental.” astral once more hastens to underrate. “you will be given one day per three weeks to spend without supervision. that’s twenty-four hours straight. you will, however, have to report exactly what you plan to do on those days to any one of your supervisors. this is a test, of course, of how trustworthy you are.” 

96′s skin prickles. “well, if i fail, i’ll do it with flying colors, at least.” 

“don’t.” astral then stays silent until 96 faces them fully, only to be met with a peculiar frown. 

they pick up on their superior’s mood almost instantly. “why couldn’t you tell me this over a call?” they repeat, more suspicious at astral’s brooding. as mildly good as the renewed freedoms are, it isn’t especially spectacular given that any of them can still be taken away at any time. “what do you want to tell me?” 

“nothing,” astral lies. they don’t often, even with their by now familiar feelings of distrust and unease when around their shadow. 96 senses something under the surface, but for all 96′s talents, they’re no mind reader. astral sighs, then, but 96 can already tell that something will still be held back. “in truth, i’ve already approved of your first unsupervised day. it is confidential, between only me and ena. and you. please remember that it is a test.” 

“so, is that it? what have you scheduled me to do? charity work, i hope? or are you sending me as a spokesperson to a school?” 

“your dread is unnecessary. i know what you can handle – or rather, what you’d prefer to handle. just because we’ve been made to work on assignments that are not suited to your strengths or preferences does not mean that no one acknowledges those, or that i don’t care.” 

“tsk,” 96 interrupts, teeth snapping and their eyes rolling briefly to stop astral’s admission in case there was more. just to be certain astral knows how unwelcome such gestures from them are, they counter, “that only makes how you just _go along_ with everything worse.” 

“i know you see it that way.” astral says, tone accepting as though to simply drop the subject. 

96 pushes. “it never bothers you.” astral is to blame for bringing their sentiments to light again anyway. 96 mutters, “you are _weak_  to be used–” 

“it does bother me,” astral clips, calm. something hostile boils beneath their composure, something 96 has always known how to test but never how to truly bring it forth outside of an actual physical confrontation. and astral reiterates, “war is not the answer.” like a phrase a child has learned and memorized from school. “neither is complete distrust, 96. you haven’t asked about your free day. the date, activities, and your company will be forwarded to you soon. today. i’ve confirmed it.” 

“you can’t tell me yourself? why?” 

astral remains tight-lipped, slowly picking up their pad again in silence, part wanting to leave and part reluctant to. wanting to say something but uncertain. astral’s composure cracking even just a bit is usually a source of amusement for 96, but at the moment, it’s only irritating. 

“spit it out,” they order. 

they don’t expect their superior to actually gush anything out. “what you do matters.” they look at 96 directly, frowning. “for you, and others. this sounds insignificant now. i know you don’t care. but give it time. you have to take care.” 

“what is this?” efforts to pep-talk 96 have long ago been exhausted, but 96 doesn’t get an answer to why astral is trying once more. astral turns and makes their way to the door. 

“nothing.” astral lets themself out, and at the doorway, adds, “i’m trusting you,” before the entrance slides closed. their eyes turn hard and challenging, and briefly, everything in astral’s demeanor promises the potential for retribution. 

96 nearly stomps towards their door, and leans out to shout at astral retreating to the elevator down the hall, their own gazer already whipped out and activated. “what’s gotten into you!” they shout. astral barely gives 96 another look over their shoulder before they step into the elevator and leave without another word. 

96 considers following them, demanding that they tell 96 what they have planned, demanding more, (that astral finally drop the act of an honorable, passive tool, or that they at least let 96 know what they and the other emissaries _really_  have planned if there’s more to it than that) but 96 knows it would be useless. 

that, and the noise coming from inside their home, high and heard over the low sound of the tele, stops them. 96 sulks from the door, letting it slide locked and looking over to their pad to see a new notification. 

it isn’t a memo. 96 rarely reads those anymore. instead, the originating address is unknown, one that 96 has never been in contact with before, or hasn’t saved. they open it. 

“do you still want to meet?” it reads. 96 stops at the second line. 

the tele goes mute, blocked by flashes of the weary looks and remarks astral had given them just a moment ago, blocked by their own breath catching and their own mind pausing – with glee. part of them jolting awake with memories and past promises of affection and teeth. 

96′s eyes flick to the doorway where astral had warned them without words. it’s only with the image of their shabby apartment that they ground themself and feel themself almost shivering. 

“it’s me,” the message continues. 96 reads it again, fingers hovering to reply. “yuma.” 

* * *

 

he is every bit as pretty as 96 remembers. 

they had called him, after being unable to do anything but give monosyllabic answers over text – “yes, where, when” – and finding themself having to hold back from typing some grossly sentimental variation of, “is it really you?” 

they expected him not to answer, and truthfully, it seemed he wouldn’t when the connection kept dialing. 

he picked up belatedly, audio open, video too, and 96′s first look at yuma in almost a year was an image of him looking back into his own screen with all the uncertainty in the world. 

now, 96 sees him past the sparse crowds of people, fidgeting beside a standing table, fully clothed in fitted pants and a jacket with a sigil that looks all too familiar. the sight makes 96 squint as yuma turns his gaze at their direction. 

96 had teased him through their monitor, however unamused, when yuma told them where to meet. “that’s a pretty public place. purposeful much? are you worried?” 

yuma gave them a look before he answered. “should i be?” 

 _yes._  his chest heaves as they approach, one deep breath taken before he walks towards them as well. 

96 had spent last night, after the call, wondering what they would do, thinking of what _could_ they do. even with astral’s words sitting in the back of their mind, part of them screams that nothing else wouldn’t matter; that the small mass of people can be overpowered, that this bold or stupid human can be overpowered, that astral and the council can kiss their ass while they flee to the nearest hideaway or vessel. 

(and would it be worth it, after all this time? yuma was addicting, somehow; 96 drawn back just to watch him night after night. would it still be the same? would it still taste the same?) 

yuma stops as they come close, but even at arms reach, 96 doesn’t, and it is only when he takes a deliberate step back that 96 lets him alone, hands at their sides and allowing him enough distance so that he stays near of his own accord. 

 _i have dreamt of snapping my hands closed around you when you run. i’ve dreamt of forcing you to stay in binds so tight you bleed._  

“long time no see,” yuma greets, strained. 96 looks him up and down – strong legs and memorable hips, shapely chest and round muscles, his face. his eyes evade theirs. 

“you actually showed up,” 96 taunts. yuma’s trepidation makes way for irritation, his teeth grinding again briefly at 96′s tone, shoulders rising defensively. 

“of course i showed up.” and there he is; yuma’s gaze snaps up to meet theirs like a confrontation, and it’s not a shock that their meeting could be closer to that than a typical reunion. “you thought i wouldn’t? after _i_ reached out to _you_?” 

“it’s not as though the vice-versa’s ever worked.” 

guilt soaked in resentment. his drives 96 to breathe in deeply – a prolonged gasp – as though the scent of his feelings for them, however inconsistent and warped, could be sucked in and made to settle in 96′s core. even as yuma tries to brush it off, the impression of it remains. “well, it’s not like you’re the easiest guy to get in touch with either! sometimes i just couldn’t reach you. even when i wanted to–…” 

even if he wanted to, weariness stopped him. the answer is obvious even without 96′s biased sense of empathy. he speaks again before they can reply. “look, i didn’t ask to see you again to fight with you.”  

but it wouldn’t be entirely unexpected. yuma rubs briskly at his head again, a familiar gesture. 96 asks, “then why did you decide to finally meet again? you didn’t miss me, did you?” 

“ _hah_.” the trickles of insecurity that 96 often appreciates wisps of from others is ruined by the way yuma’s eyes avoid them when he isn’t glaring directly at them. almost as though he considers simply leaving again. 

it’s an admittedly common reaction to 96 that they have, by all means, become used to from most others. now, though, 96 flexes their palms and keeps the urge to grab yuma’s hair and keep his gaze locked on them at bay. 

“i wanted to check up on you.” yuma admits. it’s not a lie as far as 96 can tell. “it’s just– you’re not the _easiest person to approach_  after what happened, you know. even without all the security around you. even after i was able to move on, finally, from _getting fired_.” 

96 jabs, “from what i remember, the only loss would have been you stopping what you’re so good at. anything else about that job was expendable.” 

“for _you_ , jackass! that was my home and paycheck!” at least he _looks at them_  when he’s angry. if that’s what it has to take, then 96 might be close to accepting it. “i couldn’t stay even though everyone there was my friend! that job was what _got_ me here and how i could stay. just because i didn’t like it there anymore didn’t mean it had to end like _that_.” 

“you’re welcome.” despite themself, they feel the corner of their mouth perk up. yuma looks like he wants to slug them. “after all, it looks like you’re doing well enough for yourself right now. isn’t that right, _officer_? was that really the only other thing you could think of pursuing?” 

yuma’s fists had clenched, and he holds one up now, not in a move to strike so much as a gesture of frustration. it’s a different type of cute from what 96′s seen from him. he was fairly muscular before, so having him flex now – especially considering the training he must undergo in the academy that gives those jackets to its students – could be quite a sight under all that clothing. 

96 remembers how his chest had moved when he was excited and bare. 

“… _yes_.” yuma bites out, bitter. “you don’t have to _say it like that_. honestly. you’re the worst damn date i’ve ever had.” 

that makes 96 squint, momentarily stumped, but yuma grumbles on before they can answer to that. “i can’t stand still with you. i need…– let’s just take a walk. though it’s more like _you_  need to cool off more than me.” 

he sulks down the walkway, and quickly enough, 96 follows, matching his hunched-over stride easily. 

oddly enough, despite how 96 thought this meeting would go, yuma is so far the angriest of the two. whether or not it’s the preferred mood, they can’t decide. 

“what made you want to be a trainee?” they decide to ask. if slivers of 96′s prejudice against the academy slip out through their tone, it’s unrepentant. “it’s not like your experience with agents showed the ideal, shining representation of us that the promotional vids do.” 

“well. maybe it’s because, like you said, i couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.” yuma throws back. “actually. if you must know. i was already considering it when i saw that you kept coming back to see me. just seeing you and knowing what you were…gave me the idea.” 

“my apologies,” 96 groans, actually sincere. 

“it’s not bad,” yuma defends. “i just saw how much freedom it gave you. you looked like you could go anywhere. well–” he is, at least, decent enough during the spiel to pause and sneak a regretful look at 96 as he disclaims “–you used to.” 

“you’d be surprised.” _at the untruths._  though to give the claim credit, it is undeniably correct that 96 was afforded more leeway then than now. 

yuma’s reply is low and heavy, and as though sensing the meaning underneath, he pauses, a hint of unease sitting over him. 

“astral was a big part of it.” he says like an admission. “not just meeting you. they actually checked up on me after i had to leave the den. they listened to me.” 

yuma pauses and peers back at 96 questioningly, and 96 realizes they stopped walking. “you’ve been talking with astral?” 

he doesn’t answer right away, hesitant again at the clipped inquiry. “yeah.” he answers, wanting to add more but doesn’t, waiting for 96 to reply. 

“how long?” 

“what does it matter.” _the gall of this boy._

“how quaint that you were so quick to keep in touch with _my handler_ but ran and kept yourself hidden from _me_ like a coward.” 

“i didn’t _run_.” yuma grounds out. perhaps if it weren’t for the bystanders, he would roar. he steps up to them. “i never _ran_ , and i’m here now because now is when i chose! besides, i don’t run from anything!” 

96 lets yuma see their teeth and shapes the word with their mouth, “liar.” 

it’s meant to be an insult, but 96 isn’t one to admit that’s all it is. they were right in thinking yuma didn’t even need to lift a finger or a foot to stay away from them. he didn’t run, didn’t have to. _that he agreed to reunite at all is admirable._  96 is the first to look away from the stare-off this time, hissing and rolling their eyes to the side. 

“you’re one to talk about liars.” yuma says. 96 can’t reply. “astral listened to me. they listened when i said i was thinking of joining. i got motivated and entered because of them.” 

“are you just showing off now?” 

“ _i’m trying to say that i knew how you were doing, at least, because of them._ ” yuma exasperates. “you’re really fucking hard to talk to when you’re so pissy! i didn’t even want to talk to you at first anyway – but even then, astral told me it’d be too much trouble if i did. and it’s not like they were wrong! you’re enough trouble even without the damn suspensions and lay off’s that i can’t even _talk to you_  without you making a scene!” 

“take their side, then!” they loom over him, finally, and he doesn’t step away this time, steady. “not as though they’re _ever_  wrong. after all, i _would_ have ripped you from that den whether you liked it or not if they hadn’t stopped me. and that’s why you avoided my messages, isn’t it.” not a question; but it is enough confirmation to see yuma’s eyes spark briefly with apprehension at what 96 is sure he _has_ to have already known. “more than because of whatever my _noble leader_  might have told you. i scare you.” 

“ _so what if you do._ i never ran from something because i was scared. i didn’t run from you in the den, did i, _stalker?_ ” he shoots, as though 96 would be insulted or in denial of the apt description. “and i’m not doing it now. you don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, accusing, “i _liked you_ , asshole.”  

it’s nothing 96 hasn’t suspected before, though hearing it said aloud without a trace of a lie but with bellows of vexation in its wake is something else novel to them. hard to savor, again, like the day he left; 96 receiving things they normally want but at the risk of having its source _walk out on them_. “i was willing,” yuma growls. “i was _willing!_  i would have defended you if you didn’t _fuck up_ and lie to me and _wreck_ everything. it’s not like i couldn’t tell that you were a _shit_  before that happened, i just didn’t realize _how much_  until you proved it yourself!” 

“you’re testing me.” a warning, though it’s just as astral had promised. the few others around the two of them pause briefly to stare, 96 notices, but slowly keep walking nonetheless. apprehension, mostly; it’s not as though most people have never seen an argument in public before. what would really get people to stop, 96 knows, is a full-on fight. 

more so if mixed with another attempted kidnapping. 

“deal with it.” yuma says, glowering from under his eyelashes. still every bit as pretty, and now twice as tempting to crush. “i’ve been wanting to yell at you for _months_. i’ve been wanting–…” he stops, and says instead, “you had my _trust_  and you didn’t _care_.” 

 _it wasn’t about that_. though it doesn’t stop the statement from being true, and doesn’t even make 96 certain if part of what they feel is remorse for yuma or for simply getting caught. _it was looking at you and knowing i couldn’t sink the sharp tips of myself into your flesh._  it was falling for someone gold and ripe, something about the young man drawing them in like catnip. it was the stacks of distrusts and tensions in the alliance. it was feeling like they had started to boil as soon as they knew kaito would take him away; that they would lose _again_. 

(was it ever about yuma?) 

“your _trust_?” they spit. it was wanted but they hadn’t cared, at least not nearly enough. it was bought but 96 would have plowed through on their own regardless. “and just how far would that trust have taken you?” 

“i guess we’ll never know now.” 

96 doesn’t know what to do with the blow. they feel themself tremble, and think it’s just the reaction inside of them, the part that wants to strike him or grapple with him by his hair that they’ve come closer to indulging, until yuma’s breath hitches, and they see his eyes go wide staring at them. looking at them shifting. 

“stop that.” he hisses at them; for them. the realization is quick and strikes at 96 just as swiftly as yuma’s body having come between them and a hit from kaito or astral. “you’ll ruin everything again. you’ll ruin everything with one stupid mistake _again_.” 

he’s right, but  _“so what?”_  vibrates so strongly in 96 that the image of astral staring them down, _knowing_  what they’ll have to face today and just daring them to mess up, is nearly shoved aside. 

yuma’s hands come to 96′s wrist and grab hold of them, anchoring, and at any other time perhaps, 96 could scoff at the familiarity of the situation. “96,” yuma shakes them. “snap out of it.” 

it’s not so much as turning off a switch as it is 96 smoothing themself down, pushing on bristles and ridges that threaten to billow and stay out. they shake off yuma’s hands and rub their face. “i’m fine.” they bark. it’s not as though species that morph are rare. 

they expect yuma to snide back at them, but at the silence, they peer at him through their hands and find compassion in his frown that they can’t decide if they welcome or not. “what?” they snap. 

“you really are quick to blow. and people tell me _i_ have a temper.” it’s as demeaning as ever past the attempt at levity. yuma answers the question in 96′s stare. “it’s not like you aren’t notorious by now. people talk about you; not just astral. but no wonder they worry.” 

 _as do you._  96 doesn’t say anything to that, to what could easily be picked up from yuma as it sometimes is from astral, and yuma remains silent to it as well. “the petty gossip about me sounds positively flattering.” their voice sounds like wheels on rough gravel, and they swallow to make it clearer again. “what was even the point of seeing me again?” _to fuck me up?_  it would be a surprisingly effective mode for revenge, to hold himself in front of 96 like bait once more, but they doubt this human would have the mind for that. 

yuma looks like he’s asking himself the same question. “i wanted to see you.” he admits. it doesn’t sound regretful. “it was important to me.” 

it is not supposed to hurt. the admission that 96 was in yuma’s mind as much as he’s expressed they were, or that they held a space there at all, is supposed to be satisfactory, make 96 smile, remind them that this boy has and could still be played with. pull at the parts of him that would rile him up, feast on the heat and anguish that conceives. 

in part, that is what this is, but the mutuality of it stumps 96. yuma is haphazard with his words, with his reaching out, with admitting that he would have given 96 something once upon a time but apparently not anymore. that he would have been a willing toy. 

“are you regretting it?” he asks suddenly. 96 knows what he means without his clarification, “coming to see me?” 

“this was pointless.” _what did it change?_ he is right _here_. the hurt yuma emits at the reply is one of the few that 96 considers trying to block out. “i almost slipped up. i still can. because of _you_.” 

“i just wanted to talk to you!” he defends, then says with too much surety, “and you needed to see me too.” 

 _for all the wrong reasons._  “i don’t _need anything!_ ” but even at this moment, with the way yuma makes them wish that they could, even briefly, be as numb and unaffected as astral, 96 wants to see yuma’s lashes fly up at tentacles hooking around him, wants to shut him up with teeth and tongue and tendrils, pull his arms back and make sure his legs can’t run. 

instead, they have to have _this_. yuma laying his case out to his perpetrator. yuma throwing salt into something 96 already knew they lost. 

“were you expecting an apology?” 96 prods when yuma stays silent. “i would still do it.” they make the threat blatant; what does it matter now that yuma has so effectively made it clear that he would no longer give 96 anything anyway. now that he’s made it clear 96 would have to  _snatch_  him just as they originally thought they would, just as how they usually like it anyway ( _usually_ ; the word shudders inside them). “what makes you so sure i’d _behave_? that i’m as smart as you seem to hope?” _do you think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind? if i can’t have you, no one will._  

despite that his eyes are tearless, the frustrated way his face scrunches is reminiscent of them. “stop trying to _push me away now that i’m here!_ ” he finally yells, loud enough for people to stop outright and turn, but not for much other than to witness yuma marching past 96 and shoving them by the shoulder as he strides away. 

96 doesn’t think when they grab his arm, the action done mostly of its own accord, and they don’t have the mind to keep the hold as he shakes it off easily. they stay angry enough to let him leave. as much distance as he makes between the two of them, the hurt and outrage remain so bold that 96 is still as suffocated with the moods as when yuma was just beside them. 

that 96 has their own like-emotions to deal with underneath of yuma’s doesn’t help. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next update will likely be faster. 
> 
> also, i'm not sure how obvious it is, but 96 not an extremely reliable narrator. not that i'm sure sure how relevant that's going to be in the upcoming part.


	4. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? super fast.

people have walked away from 96 too many times as of late. 

minutes after yuma stormed off, 96 loiters to the side of the walkway and plays with their gazer, wondering what they would even say the next time they try to contact him. would they say sorry? would they _feel_  sorry? would they simply bombard him with messages until, no matter the concluding reaction, he snaps? 

the uncertainties makes it so that 96 knows it is not and never will be enough to simply try and goad him into replying through long-distance means again. 

it isn’t just the brute strength that makes both them and astral so alluring to the counsel, to astral world, to any damn ally their planet has with another agenda under the desk. 96 is one hell of a lie detector, for one. they’re also a ridiculously good scent dog. (“don’t look at it that way,” astral had advised at hearing 96′s sardonic description.) 

96 has only done it twice in missions – and admittedly a bit more for personal use. get a taste of the malice that must reside in any individual, and the impression of that could leave a trail. 

as torn as 96 is over the emotions that had rolled off yuma in waves after waves, they couldn’t help but still admire that fire. heat that strong, emitting from such a cute boy who smolders all on his own, leaves smoke in its wake – detectable and alluring. 96 rubs at the gazer they won’t use. 

_“you’ll ruin everything with one stupid mistake **again**.”_

96 makes their way briskly to where yuma walked off. it’ll be enough, for now, to just get the general location of where he spends his time, even if it is only a place to sulk occassionally. it’ll be enough if the trail brings 96 to the academy they couldn’t stand to stay in too long and know that yuma is somewhere in some building. it would be enough to find out which, to hone in well enough that 96 can focus on a particular door or window. 

it would be enough to peer inside, maybe, even if from afar. it would be enough to simply know, _know_ , know where to get him, if ever. if now. it would be enough. 

it was pride that rooted 96 on the spot and that simply allowed yuma to walk away from them when at one point they had been willing to risk so much to keep him. it is still partly pride that encourages 96 to find him again, but it’s more than that. it has always been more than that. 

96 lusts for despair and hatred and any destruction that stokes animosity. they rarely lust for people; never as much as for yuma. (why does he feel like a sheath 96 could nestle themself snugly into?) 

around them, their trek takes them to a less crowded area, finally; and surprisingly. 96 had recognized the way to the academy, and knows for a fact that the grounds is usually brimming with trainees and handfuls of instructors and security. apparently, though, yuma turned, heading to the storage facilities nearby. 

typically, when 96 had resided here, the area was closed off to all except staff, and held little security as this was less of a place for confidential items or arms as it was for extra desks and chairs, screens, even cleaning supplies and holiday decor – not just for the academy but for a handful of other clients. 

96 doesn’t take the path that would have made them go through the entrances of the academy, and oddly, there is a sense that yuma didn’t either. they meander through the familiar area and reach the secluded space in little time. 

their fair share of assignments and raids and battles have taught them to trust their instincts, and that alone would have been enough to tip them off as to what’s happening even without yuma’s lividness pressing in on 96 like humidity, arid and hell-bent. it is only a matter of rounding one of the simple, small square properties before they don’t catch him so much as he steps out on his own, disapproval pouring from his glower, muscles coiled and fists clenched with intent. 

“you’re following me.” 

he expected it. that’s gathered easily enough from his actions, how he let 96 be led here. he yells again when they approach him. 

“you _idiot!_  what do you plan to do? hurt me? what’s so important that you have to do something like that again!” 

he bursts when 96 takes longer than a second to answer; not that they would have. he doesn’t give 96 more time even through his demand, “ _answer me!”_  and swings, fist missing 96 at their easy dodge. he only tries again. 

yuma is fast, but 96 doesn’t try too hard to miss his punches. if they could, they would float, high and flitting quickly so that yuma would have no chance of reaching them, but they stay on their feet instead, stepping gracefully to evade the assault. 

until yuma snarls. “ _let me hit you!_ ” and 96 gives that to him, feet ceasing and staying steady as yuma bangs his knuckles onto 96′s face, making them step back. 

it is a treat, and stings. yuma isn’t done, but 96 limits their graciousness, catching yuma’s wrists when he comes at them again and forcing his arms to misdirect, cross over each other, before yanking him off balance and shoving him onto the wall of a quaint shed. 

(they are gentle, given that there is no crunching, but their gem would be beautiful like that as well, his flame simmering, his face despairing as he’d realize he’d be at 96′s mercy, ) 

he struggles to pick himself back up, and 96 is there when he does, before and over him, locking themself around his wrists and pushing themself onto him, working to subdue his kicks and thrashes. 

their boy doesn’t scream. he grunts and curses, snaps and barks at 96 and reminds them of a dissatisfied, nasty puppy, all small teeth and useless squirming. wanting to bite and fight and hurt rather than cry out for help. 96 kisses him. 

he bites them immediately, something 96 braced themself for, and they clamp their teeth onto him right back. he cries out onto 96′s mouth, and they devour the sound, the vibration and heat. they flick their tongue out to lap at the beads of blood that threaten to pour, and barely get the taste of him – finally, _finally_  – before pushing themself back enough to avoid his headbutt. 

when that attack fails, he tries stretching himself closer to them, and shockingly, bites at the air where 96′s neck would have been if they weren’t able to create just that bit more of distance between them. _does he know how tempting he is?_  how cute the attacks are, the need for some semblance of vengeance for past and present wrongs, how easy it would be to simply _pin him to the wall_ , take him apart and watch him just try to struggle as 96 plays with him any-which-way they’d choose? does he know how fun it is to lock something down and watching it thrash? 

“you’re beautiful.” it slips out. the next comes willingly, their voice would-be steady. “i’ve been wanting this for so long…” they consider staying silent as they drift off, not liking how it feels too much like a confession, trembling like yuma trembles in their hands (finally, _finally_ ). 

but yuma’s eyes glitter the way they used to when 96 had teased him with cold shoulders and snippets of their life before, in the den, his intrigue creeping its way past the rage and distress over the argument in the walkway. reaching that part of yuma is the only motivation 96 has to allow themself to say more. “i’ve been wanting to have you.” it should sound sweet. 96 may hate themself later for sounding instead like a man desperate for someone else’s gold. 

“let me have you,” 96 settles for. yuma cringes when 96′s hands tighten over his wrists. pushing, nervous. – _nervous?_ “let me have you, yuma.” 

that his first answer is to struggle is alarming enough to 96 that any pleasure gained from the sensation is lost on them,their own vulnerability disquieting them. it is not so much a question of _i don’t know what to do if you reject me_  that 96 might have to face; it’s _i don’t know how far i will be willing to go._  

but yuma’s resistance this time is brief, and he soon ceases. there has never been too much chaos for 96, but something about the way their own emotions have to be bundled with yuma’s when he is so close, when yuma’s burning has to be accompanied by a ridiculous sense of hope for them, when 96 cannot help but focus so acutely on him as they press down on their own cropping insecurities– it nearly makes 96 wish for some sort of off button for their abilities. 

yuma licks at his wounded lips. “you missed me.” 

but the tone is off, and 96 knows they have to treat it like a question, almost as though yuma challenges them to deny it. 

they’ll think about needing and dependance later, when yuma is one step closer to sitting pliantly in 96′s palms once more. “every day.” 

“why did you have to mess everything up? you _could have ruined my life_. you still could. you’re still thinking about doing it again.” 

“yes.” 

he gaps at them. “you _asshole_. that wasn’t a question!” 96 doesn’t budge when he makes to shake them off from him again. “let _go_. i can’t talk like this.” 

96 obliges only because, as they ease off, they can sneak a tentacle up and around his waist so that he cannot move far. his eyes catch light when they go wide, and as he yelps, 96 tries to fend off thinking of the possibility of plugging yuma’s mouth quiet with the new appendage. _ruining everything with one stupid mistake again._

_–but the taste of him, down his throat,_

“i’m not running!” yuma snaps. huffs, “i told you! why don’t you _get it_? what aren’t you getting!” 

he makes to stomp towards 96 then, but they keep him fixed where he stands and bear down onto him instead. they feel him shiver at the contact, and quickly he tries to cover it up by ranting. “you don’t _have to_ …do things like _this_. you didn’t have to risk everything then, you don’t have to be such a pain in the ass now. i can just stay, with you, _on my own_. you don’t need to be such a dick to keep people around!” 

yet there’s never truly been as strong of an urge to. yuma grabs at the appendage on his waist and pushes at it pointlessly. “you could just _ask_. tell me to see you again. message me. …say sorry.” 

the last part lacks conviction despite how genuine the want for it may be. underneath the part of 96′s flesh that hugs around him, he is tight and tense one moment, and then, with the hopelessness that accompanies his last sentence, some of that deflates. 

he flinches at 96′s lips coming close to his. 96 tries for gentleness this time, or at least some semblance of it, pressing persistently against him, and they don’t have to wait long for him to sink into the pressure, his mouth going pliant and whining into the kiss. 

it would be a perfect time to say sorry. it is the most of what he wants from them at the moment. 96 wonders if yuma would be easier to coax and play with if they just _do_. they wonder if, at this point, that’s even all they want from him, if that’s all that would matter. 

they grab at his hair instead, and his neck, pulling him closer, listening to him whimper, feeling his hands clutch at the front of their shirt, his hold as tight as theirs. they allow their tongue to extend, to feel his whole body shake against the sensation, to remind him of what they’d made him so curious about the night he agreed to go away with them – even if it is with just a taste. to feel as much as they can of him now even if it is with just this one, small muscle, and not one of the others 96 would prefer. 

he tries to speak past the kiss. it’s the stupidest thing, and it gets 96 to silently laugh at him for trying, but they let him have it anyway, leaning back and giving him room to get it out. 

he won’t scream. 

“i can’t…” he pants out, blushing. 96 wants to unwrap him. “i… this isn’t… i’m still mad at you…!” 

“i know, pet.” the impression has never gone away. yuma can stay mad at them for the rest of both their lives. if it’s something 96 has to work around in order to drag him back to them, it is increasingly more likely they can. 

“you _know?_ and you still…” he clenches his teeth and shoves at them. “you’re still _trying to get in my pants?_ ” 

“is that surprising?” 

“i-it’s not just that, anyway!” he deflects. it is a subtle skill, 96 briefly realizes, the way he uses his anger at times, the peculiar way he controls it – allowing it to flourish and snap him out of his own lust, honing it so that he focuses on saying or doing what he wants. a strength. “i’m a trainee now. and you’re…” 

still a pseudo superior, and a grounded one at that. 96 claws at where they hold yuma in retribution for the direction he’s taking. for a moment, things had been going mildly well. 

yuma cringes at their grip, but manages to a jab. “we can’t both be in trouble.” 

“fuck the alliance.” 96 grates. they ease their hold only to pet him again, along his neck and arms, one hand sliding down and to his waist. despite his words, 96 lets their hand roam onto his naked skin and feel him shudder. 

he doesn’t protest right away. it surprises and pleases them, and they take the opportunity, pushing the fabric up, another alliance logo hiding underneath yuma’s jacket collapsing into the folds 96 makes of it until the cloth reaches his neck, and 96 sees all of yuma’s chest once more. 

not many people would see a love mark left here compared to if 96 leaves one on his neck. it would be harder to grip onto the flesh with their jaw, at least with the way it is shaped now, but 96 is not one for never trying. they bend down, their arms and tendril bending yuma backwards with them to make the deed easier for them. 

yuma grunts at the manhandling, but 96 cuts him off before he might object to it, purring against his skin. “when will you see me again?” 

they take yuma’s flesh and pull it between their teeth, biting down and sucking. it feels like settling. it feels like biting yuma harder to get a better cry out of him – and he gives one; good boy – because it’s all 96 is going to get for another long while again (but perhaps not too long this time). 

it feels too much like catch and release, like taking just one more nip before uncoiling and watching their prey skitter away only to hope for another taste in the future, at yuma’s unwise return. 

yuma finally answers after 96′s jaw unclenches; and even after he lets himself breathe more evenly, his voice shakes. “i… i think i’ll have as much days off as you do soon… i don’t know yet…” 

“wrong answer.” 

“you do realize we’ll have to plan a day by both talking to astral about it, right?” yuma huffs. the bravado takes a backseat once 96 gives him enough space for him to peer down, eyes landing on 96′s new mark. they hope it’s admiration that gives his eyes that glint. he touches it. “…damn.” 

“don’t heal it.” 96 says. 

yuma laughs. _he could be a wonderful pet._  

“i…” he pulls his shirt down and makes to right himself so that his balance stops depending entirely on 96, and they let him. “i think astral _wants_ us to talk. i mean, they try to help. they said that they’d accept me into their crew once i can apply.” 

he leaves the implication in the air, but it’s simple enough for 96 to catch. whether him qualifying for astral’s crew comes before or after the end of 96′s suspension (which honestly depends on whether or not they manage to fuck it up), he will be close enough to 96 again. in the same team; in reach. 

 _walking into it._  

“don’t look at me like that.” he says, eyes narrowed again. “i’m not promising you anything. i’m just saying that you don’t need to act like everyone wants to avoid you. _i’m not_. and it’s not like i’m not forgetting what a shit you are either.” 

they could slap his cute face for that even as he continues to make 96 smile. they reach up to stroke his face. “better not.” they reply. 

yuma isn’t lying – about not running, nor about the lack of commitment to anything with 96 that would be any more than the pathetic fling shared today. but it is enough – every moment he stayed with 96 or lured them here – that 96, again, almost does want to do it: _say sorry._  

“i’ll know if you change your mind.” they say instead. it won’t be right away should the possibility occur, but they’d garner enough from interactions with astral and any lack of from yuma to catch the drift. yuma sneers at the threat, and they lighten the load with teasing. “be a good boy. help me give astral a hard time.” 

“maybe if you stop being impossible to talk to.” his temper is rushing back, yuma giving it reign to drive him again, a concentrated fire. “and maybe the next time you decide to send me something risqué, warn me first.” 

“no.” 

96 plays along with his shove this time, stumbling back and returning the tentacle around him back into their own body again. they grab onto him a second later, yuma yelping as they pull him back into a tight hug. 

“did you like it?” they ask against his ear. he shivers, his face growing warm, and it’s all 96 can do to hide their own uneasiness over the dawning fact that they would let yuma leave again for this, for him coming to and staying in 96′s hold, for him to blush and thaw so prettily. like 96 is a warm bath, like he wouldn’t mind even when 96′s touches would boil him; a bird whose wings may not need to be broken or tied down after all. 

* * *

 

“congratulations on your first free day within your suspension.” astral’s voice speaks from 96′s missed messages. “i have heard from other sources that your time was well spent, and without incident.” 

“cut the crap.” 96 mutters. 

“you are…making progress. you don’t want to hear this from me, or from anyone, i know. but i truly think that you have been doing phenomenally well. not just yesterday, but within most of this year. and i think you know now how it can all pay off, in the end, or that you are learning to see what rewards there are. but besides that, i just want you to know. this is not for nothing, and you’re doing well.” 

there is pride in their voice, subtle to most anyone else but clear enough for someone who’s spent enough time with astral to hear. 96 shoots a face at the machine and goes to delete the message before astral can say any more, but the jackass ends their own recording before 96 can with an anticlimactic, “goodbye.” 

they delete it immediately anyway. 96 doesn’t have any new texts, but bringing the application up and scrolling to see their recent history seems fitting at this moment. besides, they already start to suspect that it will become a habit nonetheless. 

“astral called.” they type. yuma’s last messages had assured them well enough that he’d give a good word to their supervisor. “they made it sound like you were really kissing my ass. thanks babe.” 

picturing yuma’s reaction is half the fun, and 96 indulges in that while scrolling through the extranet, their messenger sounding off just a few minutes later. 

“don’t say i never did anything for you,” it reads. 

96 counters the obvious pout in his text. “how about another picture as a reward?” 

they are already in the process as soon as the message is sent, and blatantly ignore yuma’s quicker responses of “ _NO!_ ” and “ _I CANT LOOK AT IT RIGHT NOW_ ” as they find their sketches, flicking through them until they find one of their more racy works and taking a shot. 

let supervisor-extraordinaire get a load of this. 

yuma doesn’t reply after it is sent, and 96 snickers to themself, imagining the heated look over rushing blood, a gazer or pad hidden quickly from public eyes; imagines yuma’s looks of increasing embarrassment should he feel his device notify him of 96 sending more. 


End file.
